


Doppelgänger

by AtlinMerrick



Series: Clydeland [3]
Category: Crash Pad (2017), Logan Lucky (2017)
Genre: Body Appreciation, Body Worship, Love and Lust, M/M, Mpreg, Stensland's last name is Feye (according to me), talk of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-09
Updated: 2018-11-09
Packaged: 2019-08-21 07:29:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16572281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AtlinMerrick/pseuds/AtlinMerrick
Summary: Stensland says heartfelt things, Clyde does too, and there are comparisons made to bugs.Was not true love ever thus?





	Doppelgänger

The first time Stensland saw the photos, he didn't see what he was seeing.

Then when he did he felt guilty. Because when Stensland looked at the photo that was Clyde a month or two before he was deployed, Clyde with two flesh-and-blood arms he looked…off-balance. Like Stens was seeing an imperfect doppelgänger.

"Is that wrong do you think? Thinking that about you then? Before you were hurt? Does that make me a bad person, it probably makes me a bad person." Belly down on the rug and looking at a photo album Jimmy'd let him cart home, Stensland frowned up at Clyde on the sofa, a big book of Greek mythology nestled in his crossed legs. "But telling you probably makes it worse. Does it make it worse? I should be marched around the regimental square."

Like an over-inflated tire needing some pressure let off Stens babbled and Clyde blinked to show he was listening.

"I don't think there's anything wrong with you having two hands—and if anyone dares say otherwise Clyde you tell me, you tell me and I will disabuse their presumption—it's just that, that you look like you to me. You now. The Clyde you are now. That's what Clyde looks like."

Stensland made his cockroach face. It's the scrunched up moue he makes when Clyde stomps on those beefy bugs that like backing Stensland into a corner. It's the same face Stens makes when he's filling his own head with mean thoughts about himself. Clyde stomps on those too, when he sees them.

"Hey now, none of that."

Stensland's gaze returned from a distant place where, Clyde knew, Stens saw himself as the cockroach.

"Are you a good person Stensland? Don't even answer that cause I seen you jog three blocks in 102 degree weather so some cryin baby got her rattle back."

A skinny white knight who'd long needed someone to need him, Stensland smiled shy and blinked at Clyde to show he was listening.

Clyde blinked back, then stared down at the Greeks in his lap. Theirs was a messy world, full of mayhem, envy, and a distinct failure to live and let live. In comparison Stensland was benevolent as any Buddha.

Shortly Clyde's brow cleared and he said, "It's like Mellie doin the hair of that man that later on died of AIDS? She did it because she knew people were talkin and because it wasn't right what they were saying."

Stensland scratched at the bushy beard he'd grown for Clyde—"Lord baby, you already have stubble? I can't grow that much hair after a week. How big would your beard get do you think?"—and though he didn't say _I am not exactly following your gist lovey_ it was right there on Stens' pretty face anyway.

"Or like when Jimmy hired that girl for the crew he put together for the supermarket build? There were two guys who thought they shoulda got the job but he hired her."

Stensland shoved the tips of a couple fingers in his mouth—"Lord baby I love when you go chewing on yourself"—and though Stens didn't say _I'm afraid I'm still not getting it,_ Clyde heard it anyway.

"What Mellie and Jimmy did, what you feel about a me with two arms not being exactly…right? I figure it's like reverse prejudice, you know? It's the good sort is what I mean. Where you find yourself on the side of people who don't always get people on their side."

Stensland did the cockroach face again. He wanted to believe what Clyde said because it made him sound like Clyde. It made him sound kind. Except he wasn't like—

"C'mere a second." Clyde moved his big book and held out his short arm.

Stensland clamored off the floor in a conflagration of white limbs, reached and took the stump in hand as he settled across Clyde's broad lap.

"Most people try to be nice about this—" A wave of the limb that lost its hand in Iraq. "—but that doesn't stop 'em from being awkward and acting like there's something that ought not to be said. Like we should just ignore that part of me.

"You though." Clyde reached up and brushed at Stens ridiculously big beard with the tip of his stump. He liked not liking the strange prickle feeling. "Did you know I was skinny as you once? I think it'd be the same if you saw one of those pictures. That Clyde ain't your Clyde is all. You'd love him just the same but—"

Stensland was already on Clyde's lap. It was not possible to launch himself at his sweetheart and yet…

"Oof!"

…launch he did. Chest slamming, limbs twining, and an over-excited, weighty bounce, bounce, bounce on one of Clyde's other short bits.

Unlike the stump of Clyde's left arm, this short bit was known to grow longer. Very much like Clyde's stump, Stensland liked to get up close and peer at this bit of Clyde, talking to it and telling it that he loved it and that it was 'fetching and one of my favourite bits'.

Full disclosure, Stensland has told Clyde's toes that they are one of his favourite bits. He's told this to the moles on Clyde's left butt cheek after connecting them into a constellations with his finger. He's told it to the back of Clyde's knees, his nipples, and also Clyde's belly after a really tight hug made Clyde burp.

So Stensland Feye bounced and bounced on one of his favourite bits of his beau, crooning thank yous and endearments as he felt today's favourite bit get bigger and harder.

Eventually Stens stopped and mumbled against Clyde's neck, "Can we do the shorts thing?" Clyde kissed Stens' grinning mouth, got teeth, a mouthful of copper beard, then lips, against which he nodded and nodded, giddy.

So Stensland did the shorts thing.

Giggle-whispering "this is _so_ naughty," he fished Clyde's erection out of the slit in his boxer briefs, then lifted his bum so Clyde could tug elastic-waisted shorts down just enough to expose the crack of Stensland's ass.

With a wiggle and another giggle Stens settled that plump ass and its fine crack along Clyde's cock then _gently gently_ he began to bounce. And rub. And swirl those hips. Stens' soft butt was like some sort of Teflon kitten, Clyde liked to say, and then would say no more because he liked to do stuff with that butt he wouldn't even think about in the same room as a kitten.

_Anyway._

After a solid minute of grunty dry humping, Stensland pressed his face into Clyde's hair and said into the soft mess of it, "I imagine we're young teenage boyfriends and me mam and da told me to stay away from you because you're so big and you look so bad in a–a leather jacket. And _your_ mam and da think I'm some skinny Irish boy looking for a pretty American lover and so we have to meet in your beat up old black car in the dead of night and—ooooooooo."

Clyde held Stens' tight against him with his left arm, cupped Stens' balls with his right hand, and he hoped.

"—a-and so we every night for seven nights we drive away somewhere dark and quiet, escaping the oppression of our families. Nana is on our side because she was in the war and fell in love with an American GI who wasn't Catholic and _her_ parents ruined her chance at true love and—oooooo."

Now Clyde was licking his palm.

"—so she lets us meet at her house and then we drive a-a-away—"

Then taking hold of Stens' cock and slow-stroking.

Stensland's fluffy-haired head fell back as if his neck just couldn't support all that ginger glory anymore, what with the beard and the shaggy hair growing long. He started and stopped his story a few times before he got back into the rhythm of things only now the tale was fast-forwarded to Stens' favourite bit ever since he and Clyde talked about it that night it sounded like all the crickets were mating right there in the front yard.

"—and we park off by the pier and we know we shouldn't do it, that it's naughty what we're going to do, and we could make a baby—"

Clyde grunts, hope fulfilled. It's this story, it's the one they talked about that night of the crickets.

"But y-you put my hands in your pants anyway and make so many pretty sounds, and even though I shouldn't, because it's _so_ naughty, but oh my you went and made yourself all wet inside your panties—"

Clyde grunts again, licks his palm again too, stroking his story-telling sweetheart light, light, light, just how he likes it.

"—s-s-so I put my willy in you in the back seat of the car—"

Clyde slid down on the couch a little, so he could have a lot more of the crack of Stensland's ass against his cock. He nodded encouragement with lots and lots of little head bobs.

"So you go on making all these absolutely lovely sounds like you do—"

"Please," Clyde whispered, a lovely sound.

"—ff-fudge. And we can tell it's gonna happen—"

Clyde tipped his head back until it thunked on the wall. Then did it again. A soft little _yes, yes._

"It's—it's—gonna happen this time, I know it is, it's gonna Clyde I say, it's gonna—"

"Fffff…"

"—and if it does we can get married no matter what ma and da say, if we do it if we do if we—"

"…fffff…"

"—make a baby."

"…uck!"

Clyde came so fantastically well he lifted his hips, his butt, and his boyfriend clean off the couch. At the same time he went still, so Stens grabbed Clyde's hand and pumped that thing up and down while watching his boyfriend's "fetching o-face" but it wasn't until Clyde's hips landed and a beatific dopey smile took him over that Stens started _oo-ooo-ooooing._

Then came right on up into the air between them.

Clyde watched with delight, Stens grunted like a skinny ginger bear right on through it, and afterward everyone slumped their heart rate back to something steady and calm.

Draped like a cooked noodle over the couch, Clyde, and part of the floor, Stens beamed at his beau when he reached with his stump to wipe at the mess of sweat and hair on Stensland's forehead.

He swiped slow, did Clyde, right over the two birthmarks Stens had there. They could look so red sometimes, those marks, because Stens was sometimes so pale. He used to cover them with makeup, when he and Clyde were new to one another, shy because they wanted to be their best selves.

But for Clyde Logan Stensland's best self makes faces and is lots louder than he thinks he is, and has two red beauty marks right there between his eyebrows.

That other man with the makeup, who tried not to cackle and was sometimes shy, he was an imperfect doppelgänger. This Stens, come smeared and sweaty, naughty and bearded and inclined to love Clyde and all the bits he has or doesn't have, that is the Stensland Feye Clyde loves. The Stens he is now. Right now.

Except, maybe…except.

"Baby?"

Stens wiggled and purred and stretched his arms up over his head. He made lip smacking sleepy sounds but cracked open one eye just the same. "Lovey?"

"What do you say, let's, uh, let's take a shower."

Stens blinked himself awake, then sniffed under one arm. He made a cockroach face. "Oh jeepers I smell."

Clyde loves Stens right now, true, but he's gonna love him just that teeny tiny bit more in about ten minutes. Yeah, he's gonna.

—  
_I realised while writing it that you just know Stensland has an elaborate fantasy landscape and turns himself on imagining all sort of 'naughty' situations in which he and fantasy Clyde have sex. You can just hear him backtracking to include important details like 'and the car was big enough for us to do this' and Clyde would agree,_ 'yes, yes it was.' _P.S. I think I just fell in love with this pairing even more._


End file.
